


Curry Night

by hobbeshalftail3469



Series: Curry Night [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Could be a SPOILER but really only if you have already read LW!, Drinking Games, F/M, Lovely Angst, curry at the Herberts, the possibility of what they could one day be, there are kittens!, too much garlic!, wanting and pining but in a nice way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: OK, so this is set immediately after LW - HOWEVER, there are no spoilers about the crime element of the book - it is a, 'what might happen next' kind of fic  - Robin is staying at Nick and Ilsa's; Robin has left Matthew; the 4 of them are having a curry together; there are kittens; Corm is wearing his deep red zip jumper......





	1. Jinx!

The invitation had been from Nick and Ilsa; although it was Robin who had voiced it; did that technically mean that she had invited him? Strike shook off the idea; fucking hell, he had curry and beer night at the Herberts house about twice a month, long before Robin had been staying in their spare room…..but she’d be there too tonight, which might explain why he was having a shower and putting on a decent shirt beneath his deep maroon coloured half-zip jumper.  
Stupid fucker!  
Robin had got drenched earlier on, she’d stripped off and had a shower once back at Nick and Ilsa’s; her temporary home, at least for the next few days. She was so grateful to her friends; and yes, she did now consider them to be her friends, not just friends of Cormoran. She’d suggested buying the take away as a way of thanking them….and Cormoran had just been invited because….well, he was Corm!  
She’d changed into leggings, thick socks and a sloppy jumper, her face free of make up and her hair scraped up into a clip after her warming shower, and when Ilsa came through the door she was greeted with this sight of her swishing the cordless vacuum over the living room floor. They had not made any arrangements about Robin’s role in the house, but Robin had just naturally joined in with loading the dishwasher, running the hoover around and restocking the loo roll.   
Ilsa smiled and offered a wave on her way in,   
“Need a wee!” she shouted before scurrying off to the downstairs loo.  
Robin had finished with the vacuum and was clipping it back to recharge when Ilsa appeared, sighing in that ‘pleasantly just relieved my bladder’ kind of way.  
“What time is Nick gonna be back?” Robin asked,  
“He reckons he’ll be through about 7ish, so we can make a start on the order and he can add any bits he wants later; oh and Corm too – is he coming?” Ilsa asked absently as she started stacking beers in the fridge.  
Robin nodded, “Yeah, he’s up for it, said he’d be here about half seven…I picked up more beers as you can see!” and they shared a raised brow at the number of bottles lined up in the fridge and stashed by the side of the washing machine.   
“Right, I am off to get out of work mode then we can let the weekend commence!” and with that Ilsa dashed upstairs to shower and change.  
Robin caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror and pulled a face; why did she have to look so pale, and flushed? And why had her hair had to get drenched earlier on? And why did her boobs not look right? And why did any of it matter? It hadn’t mattered on the previous evenings she’d spent in the company of Nick and Ilsa!  
“Bugger it!” she voiced to her ruffled reflection before clambering the stairs to re evaluate her choice of outfit, followed by Ossie and Ricky scampering after the nice lady who let them sleep with her in the strange low down bed.  
Twenty minutes later, Robin descended the stairs and wandered into the open plan kitchen of Casa Herbert; Nick had got home in good time and was peppering his wife’s face with delicate kisses when Robin walked in on them;  
“Gooseberry alert!” she giggled as they remained entwined across the breakfast bar.  
Ilsa raised her eyebrows at Robin’s transformation; make up applied, hair obviously retousled with a bit of spritz applied for height and a waft of her familiar scent fogging around her. It was subtle actually; if Ilsa hadn’t seen her earlier on she’d have thought this was Robin’s natural look!  
“Right, have a look at the menu and I’ll add to it once I’ve got changed,” Nick threw over his shoulder as he made his way upstairs.  
Ilsa regarded Robin with a pointed, arched brow.  
“What?” Robin retorted, trying to act casually as she scrutinised the Indian Take Away menu and fiddled with her hair.  
“Just wondering what’s different about you? Hmmmm?” Ilsa mocked, peering at Robin’s eye make up and tilting her chin to sniff at her neck. “I mean if you fancy a crack at Nick……” she trailed off as Robin playfully slapped her hand away.  
“I just looked in the mirror and felt like crap….I’m a recently single woman…I need my self esteem!” Robin shouted over Ilsa’s attempts to ruin her hair; which annoyingly just looked better!  
“Fine….but your self esteem would probably be boosted even further if you put that teal blue top on….’cos he couldn’t….. keep his eyes…… off you when you were…..ow…. wearing it a couple of weeks ago…..ow!” Ilsa’s comments were significantly hampered by Robin attempting to silence her by trying to shove a whole grapefruit in her mouth.  
Nick entered the hilarity and shook his head; he was glad that Robin and his wife got on so well….although she was slightly obsessed with trying to match make between their oldest and newest friends…..she meant well though.  
“Truce!” Nick shouted, popping he cork on a bottle of wine and waggling it in their direction; like a cat nip toy infront of Ossie and Ricky as they both made ‘Oooh’ mouths.  
Ilsa grabbed glasses as the doorbell sounded, Robin ran up to her room and scrabbled around to locate the top Ilsa had mentioned, ripping off her slouchy jumper and replacing it with the almost peacock blue, jersey top…..she justified her decision by recognising that any slopped curry would be easier to clean off the fabric than the wool. She heard gruff, unmistakably masculine rumbles in the hallway and felt a ridiculous swell of excitement.  
Shit it! Stop being a 14 year old girl!  
The noises had moved into the kitchen as she made her way self consciously through, Nick casting her a questioning look, as if trying to work out what was different.  
She shot Ilsa a ‘What?’ kind of look as she reached for the glass of wine on offer.  
“Alright?” Strike was regarding her, his eyes crinkled at the edges as they swept over her, as if trying to assess whether any minimal alterations to her perfection had occurred in the couple of hours since they separated at the tube station. He inhaled as he took a lengthy swig from his beer; nope, she was still perfect……and she looked amazing in that blue top.  
“So what else are we adding to this order?” Nick asked, calmly ignoring, the crackling electricity in the room and tapping the food menu.  
Robin dragged her attention towards the food choices, casually noting that Cormoran was wearing her favourite jumper; the one that made him look like a cuddly bear; not that she would ever dream of telling him that….not even after 3 or more glasses of wine. She mentally chastised herself and gave herself a thorough telling off; on no account; no matter how drunk and ridiculous the evening became; on NO account would she tell Cormoran that he looked like a cuddly bear!  
She drew her attention back to her wine glass, and then her the list they had scribbled for ordering.   
“Can we get a prawn roshuni?” Robin asked innocently.  
The instant the phrase left her mouth the other 3 erupted into a series of shouts and pointing, Cormoran laughing and as close to leaping as she had ever seen; the kitties hurtling across the tiled floor and skidding into the lounge.  
“What have I said?” Robin asked as the volume showed no signs of fading.  
“You, Robin, are amazing!” Strike grinned, “Finally!” he punched the air.  
Nick was muttering, “Never gonna hear the bloody end of it….” whilst fetching more beers for him and Strike.  
It was Ilsa who finally explained, “Corm always wants to get a roshuni when we do curry night, but there’s too much garlic…”  
“No such thing!” stated Cormoran and Robin at the same moment.  
“Jinx!” Robin grinned at Strike who held up his bottle of beer in a salute.  
“….anyway, looks like all you needed was Robin!” Ilsa continued, waggling her eyebrows.  
Nick interrupted, “Right, adding the roshuni….is that it?” he asked as he dialled through the order.  
Cormoran was smiling a genuine, heart warming smile - the kind that made his eyes crinkle – as he lolled against the breakfast bar. This was just nice…..his mates, all together. And Robin was single; or as good as; which meant there was a glimmer of hope for him; there was a possibility.  
He glanced at her as she giggled with Ilsa, the more adventurous of the kittens scrambled up onto the chrome rubbish bin before stretching up it’s paws at her chest and nuzzling her neck with it’s small, wet nose. Strike’s expression changed slightly; how could he be jealous of a ball of fur that could fit on his hand……it even seemed to be staring at him, cockily, as it repeated it’s nuzzling, nibble of her hair.  
Lucky little, furry bastard!   
Nick hung up the phone, “about an hour…..think there’s some footie on, shall we?” he motioned to Strike and they ambled through to the lounge.  
Alone in the kitchen together; well, Ozzie didn’t count; Ilsa nudged her friend, “So?.....the hair, the make up, the top!.....why the hell have you gone for a curry with enough garlic in it to floor a rhino?”  
Robin laughed into her empty glass; prompting Ilsa to top them both up.  
“I’m not interested in snogging anyone tonight Ilsa….with the possible exception of this little boy,” rubbing her nose into the soft ears of Ozzie.  
“But you ARE interested in snogging him eventually then?” Ilsa asked softly.  
Robin sighed deeply and lolled her neck back, “I don’t know Ilsa. Cormoran is just easy; and kind; and he makes me laugh….and I need that; especially right now.”  
Ilsa’s mouth flicked into a tender smile, “The pair of you are going to reek tonight if you eat all that bloody roshuni….they’ll stink, won’t they Ozzie Boy,” and she scooped up the kitten and ambled into the lounge where the men folk were shouting at the ref.  
Robin paused for a brief moment. She was coming out of a dreadful relationship; one which she was only now starting to realise had coloured her opinion of herself as well as of others. She didn’t want another man in her life just yet…..she wanted to be free….but maybe she also wanted the possibility…….  
She joined the others in the living room; Ilsa was curled up on her husband’s lap in the large armchair, Cormoran was in his usual spot on the sofa, but Ricky had decided that his chest made an excellent spot for one of the many naps necessary as a growing cat and was rather sweetly stretched up with his back legs flailed out and his soft chin nestled into the dark hairs which always sprouted from the opening of Strike’s shirt; or in this case jumper and shirt.  
“Someone’s comfy!” Robin grinned down as she flopped beside him, her foot curled under her, she reached out and tickled the back of the cat’s head, causing him to start up his amazing, tractor like purr.  
“Bloody hell! He’s noisier than I am when I’m asleep!” Strike laughed and curled his hand under Ricky’s rear end so that he could shift position slightly and ease his knee out into a stretch. Robin’s fingertips inadvertently caught his hand and they met each other’s gaze for a brief, powerful moment. It could have gone on forever; but Ozzie took the opportunity to clamber up and find his brother…..the first half of his path having no impact as he selected Strike’s prosthetic limb; his tiny talons sinking into the thick, trouser fabric; but once he reached thigh those same little claws dug through to skin, not metal and carbon fibre.  
“Shit the……fuck that hurts!” Strike squealed as Ozzie ignored his protests and began that kneading bread move on his jumper and groin.  
Robin stifled her laughter at the way Cormoran was wincing and growling at the tiny ball of fur who seemed intent on ripping open his fly, whilst the other snored and wriggled closer towards his neck.  
Ilsa and Nick joined in the mirth until eventually Ozzie spotted a glimmer of something shiny beneath the coffee table and leapt off to chase the small plastic ball; the bell within alerting Ricky to the prospect of play and Strike was finally able to retrieve his beer.  
“I’m nipping out for a fag; and to remove half a cat from my sweater before the food gets here,” he grumbled, good naturedly.


	2. Give us one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title harks back to Career of Evil TV version, when they are sharing the Land Rover and he eats a toffee, she aske him to "Give us one" and he unwraps one and places it in her mouth. I think it is a beautifully erotic moment actually.....one that I think Cormoran and Robin would think about afterwards.  
> Anyway.....they're all eating the curry in this bit :)

Strike snuck out of the sliding, patio doors with his cigarettes and matches and took a deep draw on his nicotine fix. He couldn’t help noticing his reflection in the glass; what was it about him that looked different? His hair was still an unruly mess…..his gut was reducing, but his physique was far from svelte and his dress sense was still firmly ‘it’ll do’! But he looked different somehow….he felt different too. 

Robin appeared in the kitchen obliviously wiggling her arse and singing along about wanting to eat cake by the ocean; it was half time and Nick had given in to his wife’s desire for cheesy music to jump about to. She slid around on her sock covered feet before finally remembering that Cormoran was outside observing her movements with a bemused but adoring look on his face.  
“Bugger off! I’m having fun!” she shouted through the door and slid off to the fridge for a second bottle of white wine. Strike noticed and silently considered that it would mean she was going to consume far too much this evening; although he’d managed to increase her threshold to 3 glasses of wine before she became sozzled…..it was an achievement he took pride in!

A few seconds later her hand was thrust out of a small opening in the door so as not to let the kitties outside,  
“Make yourself useful and open that,” she giggled. Strike balanced his cigarette between his lips and twisted the screw cap from the bottle effortlessly,(despite the metal not having been punched through, which was why Robin hadn’t been able to remove it!)  
“Thanks,” she pouted, and Strike was instantly taken back to sharing the Land Rover with her on their journey to Barrow; she said the same thing in exactly the same tone when he’d pushed an unwrapped toffee between her lips; and just like back then, her single word comment stirred something within him.  
God, he was crazy about her!

He watched as she topped up her glass; she glanced up at him a few times and found his waiting gaze each time. He had made the decision when she announced her split from Matthew that he’d wait…..as long as it took. He’d done his best to try to find someone when the possibility of her was removed; but he had realised that he didn’t want anyone else; he wanted her, and now that the possibility might be back on the table….well……he’d just have to get used to some cold showers!  
Robin was making her way across to him as the door bell rang and Nick announced the arrival of the food. She hastily side stepped in order to pick up more beers for him and Nick as Strike ground his cigarette out on the brickwork before flicking the end into the wheelie bin.

“Was that the food?” he asked as he rubbed his hands for warmth. He crossed to the sink and rinsed the ‘bin lid’ off his hands, impulsively flicking droplets of the clean water in Robin’s direction.  
“Hey! I’ve a good mind not to give you this now!” she giggled, waggling the beer just out of his reach as she blew the drips from the end of her nose.   
Ilsa and Nick brought through a couple of bags loaded with deliciously spicy smelling food and the foursome set to opening and organising containers and settling at the table to eat.

Ilsa flicked the ‘The’ play list on her phone on as background music; and eclectic mix of The Smiths, the Cure, The Killers, TheThe and The Beautiful South, and they started to pile food onto plates.  
Nick swore loudly as he located the roshuni and took a lungful of the incredibly garlicky sauce,  
“Jesus, the pair of you are going to sweat garlic!” he retched passing the steaming tub across to a salivating Robin who dipped in her spoon and immediately swallowed a mouthful.  
“Mmmmmmmm, MMMMMMm!” she licked her lips and invited Cormoran to follow suit. He did and mimicked the same noise she had made, but a couple of octaves lower and the pair of them laughed as Nick and Ilsa shuddered and shook their heads respectively.

“So, come on……what juicy stuff have the pair of you got going on at work then?” Ilsa asked, hunting around for lime pickle to add to the side of her plate.  
And so followed a pleasant and easy meal; the four of them sharing details of work which they knew would go no further, but which served to amuse and horrify the group….although to be fair most of the horrifying details came from Nick….it was just unfortunate that they happened to be eating curry!


	3. The difference is Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening continues with some drinking games.  
> Nick, Ilsa and Corm realise that Robin is happy, and that her happiness seems to be the factor making a change in Oggy.  
> Many thanks to Zoesongs for a little suggestion which I think makes this little chapter even better Xx  
> It's all very sweet, but the drinking game is a bit giggly!

About an hour later, groaning with bellies full of curry, rice, pickles and - in the cases of Robin and Cormoran – more garlic than was legal, they considered retiring to the comfort of the lounge.

“How about a round of shots?” Nick suggested, grinning and finishing what would be his fifth beer.   
The rest of the trio groaned, but didn’t stop him moving towards the Jagermeister and shot glasses.  
“Fucking hell! That stuff is like downing mouthwash!” Cormoran wailed.  
“Maybe it’ll sucker punch that bloody garlic!” Ilsa retorted.  
“How dare you!” Robin breathed, deliberately over pronouncing the ‘H’ in Ilsa’s face and enjoying the screech from her friend as the aroma of garlic hit her full in the face. “I need an empty bladder before I can cope with shots!” and Robin headed off towards the loo, giggling and apologising to the bin as she bounced off it en route.

Cormoran’s expression was back to adoring amusement at Robin…..and despite his ‘heading towards slightly drunk’ state, he caught his reflection in the glass doors again…..that different look was there again.   
Ilsa noted it too and caught his gaze with a knowing look.  
“What?” Cormoran asked with slightly self conscious drag of his hand through his hair.  
“Nothing!” quipped Ilsa, still grinning and winking in his direction, enjoying the slight blush creeping across his neck and cheeks.  
Nick, back turned rummaging for kitchen roll to remove some of the mess from the table, was oblivious to his wife and friend’s body language;  
“Robin seems happy doesn’t she?” he offered, glancing between the pair of them quizzically, “What have I missed?”  
“You’ve missed nothing, mate….and yeah, Robin does look happy. I think she’s enjoying life again…..it’s nice,” his voice drifted into a soft murmur.  
Nick noticed the difference to his friend too; he was more relaxed, smoking less, losing weight…and there was just something different in his appearance – not his hair, not his shambolic clothing choices, just ‘something’.

Ilsa’s twinkling gaze met her husband and she raised her eyebrows, knowingly, as Robin made her way back through to join them causing Cormoran to pull himself a little more upright in his chair and press his lips together to suppress his beaming smile.

Realisation hit them with about the same force as the garlic had done to Ilsa’s nostrils…..the difference was Robin; pure and simple. She made him happy; really and truly happy…..and THAT was the difference, it was glowing out of him in the same manner that it glowed from Robin with her honey-gold hair.  
Strike realised it was the kind of carefree happiness he had only known before the IED accident; before Charlotte; before his mum’s death; the carefree happiness he’d shared with Ilsa back when they were kids in Cornwall.  
And there was the possibility that they could become something more…..someday.

Nick had poured 4 shot glasses of the dark, brown liquid.   
“Winner chooses the next round,” Strike shouted, handing out the glasses before tossing back the shot with lightening speed. Robin and Ilsa grimaced as the powerful, almost menthol flavour hit their throats.  
“You won, Oggy mate,” Nick winced, pouring 4 more shots as Ilsa groaned.

“Right,” Cormoran giggled placing the shot glasses directly in front of each of them on the table, “Hands behind backs and last in the stack has to do another!”

There was general shrieking and head shaking, Cormoran was laughing at their expressions so much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to complete the challenge himself, especially when he glanced up and made eye contact with Robin who was practising placing her lips over the top of the shot glass to see if she could feasibly get the whole thing in her mouth!  
Nick caught his expression and sniggered himself at what he knew would be uppermost in his friend’s mind.

Strike caught the snigger and took full advantage, “GO!” he shouted, eliciting a “Fuck it!” from Nick as the other 3 lifted their glasses in their mouths, tipped back their heads and then looked around for the stack; surprisingly, Ilsa was first to drop her glass on the table, but close to where she was sitting. 

Nick was necking his drink and being closer to Ilsa meant he could drop his glass into her empty one while Strike and Robin bumped and barged together quite aggressively but good naturedly to not be last. Cormoran used his bulk to almost cover the table, splaying his wide shoulders and arms across it, preventing Robin; who was squealing as best she could with the glass still clasped in her mouth; from dropping in her glass next.   
However, he reckoned without her underhand methods; she grunted and clambered up onto the table, burrowing under his arm and depositing her glass on top of Nick’s, leaving Cormoran lifting his arms to the side in a gesture of ‘not fair’; eyes wide in incredulity, as the other 3 howled; Robin punching the air in a mini victory lap of the kitchen.  
He added his shot glass to the stack, tilted his head in mock sternness and turned to deliver a withering gaze towards Robin who was now cowering behind the breakfast bar; knees buckled in laughter and holding out her hands in a truce.  
Nick was laughing and spilling more of the alcohol than he was actually filling into the forfeit glass for Strike.  
“You bunch of fuckers!” he muttered as he downed it, “Right….since you all hate me I’m going to spend some time with my real friends…..fags!” and he scooped up his matches and cigarettes before heading outside, shaking his head and sticking two fingers up to the lot of 'em!


	4. It's a good place to start.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, and I'm not really wrapping up the story - I'm leaving it open so it can continue however you the reader would like......of perhaps someone might want to write a next part of their own choice - given the ending of LW I think we can all come up with our own version of 'what happens next'!

Ilsa and Robin ‘awwwed’ after Cormoran as he went outside to smoke, he stuck out his lip in almost mock petulance; but his eyes were still twinkling and crinkled at the edges.

Nick headed off for a pee and Ilsa took what was left of his beer and her wine through to the living room, still giggling and stumbling as a mixture of Jagermeister and being sat for too long suddenly affected her ability to walk. 

Momentarily alone in the kitchen, Robin pulled exaggerated pleading faces at Strike through the window; causing the smoke from his fag to erupt from him in jagged puffs as he struggled to inhale and laugh simultaneously.  
She looked like she was really having fun….and he was partly responsible……it was a good feeling!

Robin WAS enjoying herself.   
She had got herself past the phase of marriage break up where she felt embarrassed or even responsible for her own stupidity in marrying Matthew in the first place; even on her wedding day she'd had doubts, and in the first few months of marriage, when it was clear the gold rings were not a large enough sticking plaster, she'd mentally beaten herself up, almost welcoming the feeling of shame and failure as a legitimate by-product of her own stupidity. But now, she was getting to a good place….and her friends were helping.

And her best friend was standing out in the cold; looking amazingly ruffled and sweet in his deep, red jumper. She could still feel the sensation of brushing against him as she’d wriggled herself past him to dump her empty glass on the stack of shot glasses before him….it had felt….well, not exactly sexy…..but…..right; just..... right.

She opened the patio door a fraction and he purposefully snubbed her, “ m’ not talking to you! Cheat!” he stated, almost succeeding in remaining serious.  
Robin pushed out her bottom lip, “Sorry,” she muttered, her eyes gazing up through lowered lashes. She raised her hands, Ozzie clasped between them, “Ozzie says he’ll shred me with his claws later if you’d like him to for revenge!"  
As if on cue the kitten stretched one of his teeny flailing feet out towards Cormoran’s bulk, displaying his needle like talons, and meowed pathetically.

“I’ll get my own back by breathing on you…..I reek of garlic!” he laughed, scratching Ozzie on the chin, trying to ignore that his fingertips were perilously close to Robin’s hand as he ground out his ciggie stub with his heel – he’d pick it up in the morning.  
“I’ll stink as much as you do! It was a bloody good curry though!” Robin replied. “Check for me,” and without giving him any warning she opened her mouth wide and almost roared her hot breath in his face.  
Strike sniggered and copied the action back at her, the pair of them inhaling the same air…..which due to their mutual consumption did not seem unduly garlicky.  
They were tantalisingly close, just a sliver of night air and a small, purring kitten between their bodies.

“You just smell of smoke….and….you,” Robin said coyly.  
“Is that better or worse than garlic?” he smirked softly beneath his hooded eyes.  
“Definitely better…..can I tell you something?” she asked; her voice suddenly more serious and thoughtful.  
Strike nodded, sombrely and softened his features, focussing on Ozzie’s soft, damp nose so as not to have his eyes give away the passion he was struggling to keep within.

“I’m really glad that I’m not with Matthew anymore…..I don’t think I’d have had half so much fun tonight if I was still married to him……when I was with him, the thought of him was always lurking somewhere in the background…of us. Does that make sense?” she explained, stroking Ozzie’s head and looking up at Cormoran only once she’d finished her statement.

Strike pondered on what she’d said, and on what he’d seen happen to her throughout the turmoil of her relationship with Matthew finally coming to an end.   
“I’m glad you are having fun. I like seeing you smile….and you seem to smile a lot more,” he ventured, honestly, not sure how much he could say without giving way to the tidal wave of emotions she stirred within him.  
Robin inhaled deeply, “You make me smile…..and I like that……is that OK….. for now?” she asked; her eyes adding a host of further possibilities for the future.  
Cormoran felt a surge of hope flooding through his chest,  
“It’s a good place to start,” he answered, his voice softer and warmer than she'd ever heard; before he sniffed and changed his tone, draping his arm around Robin's shoulders. “Come on….let’s go and breathe on Nick!”   
And they both smiled.


End file.
